35. Zara
35
Zara
L ife felt complete again. My parents had officially moved back to Northbridge, and I couldn’t believe how tall Sasha was. I was glad she didn’t because I needed my mom more than I realized. Banana Girl did, too, so she insisted on having a family dinner for old-time’s sake.
When Mom reminded her she didn’t need to be standing in the kitchen slaving over a meal for us, I was shocked that Banana Girl agreed. Then she replied, ‘Oh, I won’t be because all of your black asses will be helping .’
And by all, she meant all. Misa included. I had filled Mom in on our hospital debacle in case Misa tried to come in and play the disrespected adult role. She hadn’t gotten here yet, but Banana Girl had Sasha elbow-deep in a bowl of dough, learning to knead. My mom was chopping onions, her eyes watering, but she worked through it like a pro. Nana didn’t raise us to be soft in the kitchen.
I was peeling potatoes, stealing glances at Sasha as she worked under Nana’s watchful eye. Sasha had that teenage look of mild frustration, but I could tell she wanted to impress Nana, especially since she’d been so distant from the family for so long.
“Don’t pound it like that, child. Fold it over gently, like this,” Banana Girl said, her hands guiding Sasha’s.
The door creaked, and I looked up. The air shifted as she stepped into the room. Misa’s heels clicked on the floor, wearing a look like she didn’t quite belong here, but she was going to try.
Mom’s knife paused mid-chop, and Sasha’s hands stilled in the dough. Even Banana Girl’s usual smile faltered before she quickly recovered.
“Well, look who decided to show up.”
Misa stepped closer, hugging Banana Girl while her eyes swept over to Mom.
“You didn’t leave me much choice,” Misa replied, but her voice was calm, distant. I couldn’t tell if she was making an effort or just showing up for appearances.
“You came by yourself?” Mom asked, noticing nobody trailed in behind Misa.
“Yup, just me today.”
Mom groaned and returned to the stove.
“Sasha, get over here and hug your Aunt Misa,” Banana Girl ordered while Brandy focused on the potatoes we were stuck peeling.
Sasha looked between us but followed Banana Girl’s attempt to keep the peace.
“Here,” she said, pointing to the counter. “You can start the green beans.”
Misa hesitated momentarily, then slowly walked to the counter and accepted the task. My mom and I exchanged glances, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing.
I returned to peeling potatoes, focusing on the rhythm to calm myself. Kenyon and my dad were still at the store, picking up last-minute things Banana Girl forgot to write down.
“I didn’t think you’d come in so quiet. You had so much to say when I wasn’t here,” Mom stated.
Misa’s eyes shot to me before rolling them but It didn’t hurt my feelings any, my allegiance was to my Mom.
“Shana, please!” Banana Girl erupted. “Can we have one dinner as a family?”
“No, mama! It’s always Shana, please, and never Misa cut it out. I wasn’t here because I couldn’t be! You could’ve but chose to turn your back and pretend Mama wasn’t your problem. You had Brandy trying to take care of Mama all by herself when you’re right here! It’s wrong, and everybody in this kitchen knows it!”
“I’m so sorry I can’t be perfect like you, Shana!”
“ Perfect, isn’t how you described her at the hospital,” I mumbled, forgetting Banana Girl had the ears of a bloodhound and popped me with the metal spoon.
“I’m not perfect. Those are your insecurities.”
“What’s it like to live in that fantasy world of yours?” Misa asked.
“Excuse me?”
“You act like your decisions only affect you! Robert died because you got mixed up with the wrong people.”
“Misa, that’s enough!” Banana Girl tried to interject, but it was obvious that this conversation was long overdue.
“It’s okay, let her get it off her chest,” Mom replied.
“They came here looking for you. They killed him right in front of me as a message for you. I had to carry that! So, I don’t want to hear shit about what I did and didn’t do when you were gone!” Misa yelled, forgetting that her Banana Girl was in the kitchen.
“I’m sorry about your little boyfriend, but that’s not my fault! That’s always been your problem. Everything is somebody else’s fault. Tell me, who’s to blame for you walking in here and ignoring your own daughter?”
Misa’s eyes found Brandy but knew Mom was right, so all she could say was, “Worry about your children!”
“I plan to, and Brandy too, since you don’t.”
“I didn’t come here for this!” Misa was headed for the exit because the heat in the kitchen was too hot to endure.
“Alright! All the children out of the kitchen now,” Banana Girl ordered. Brandy was the first to exit, and Sasha was next while I remained planted. “Little girl, didn’t you hear me!”
“I’m a mom now, so I can stay.”
“Get out!” All three of them yelled in unison.
Tossing the towel on the counter, I left out of the same door and almost bumped into Brandy and Sasha. They were positioned on the side of the wall, ready to eavesdrop. Banana Girl did most of the talking. Occasionally, one would try to interject, but she shot them down.
“You think they’re gonna fight?” Brandy whispered.
“Maybe,” I whispered back.
We stayed as still as possible, trying to make out the conversation from where we were. I couldn’t hear every word, but it sounded like she was asking them to hash things out, to stop dancing around the issue.
My breath caught in my throat when I finally heard my mom speak.
“Just watch your mouth when it comes to me, and I won’t say a word to you.”
I strained to hear more, but a hand clamped down on my shoulder, causing me to jump. I whirled around to see Kenyon standing there, his face split into a grin like he’d caught us red-handed. Next to him was my dad, holding grocery bags in each hand.
“What are y’all doing?” Dad asked, his voice low but teasing. “Eavesdropping on grown folks’ business?”
Sasha stood up quickly, dusting off her jeans, her eyes wide and guilty. “We’re just waiting.”
“For what?” Dad asked, raising an eyebrow.
Kenyon shot me a look like he wasn’t buying it at all, but I could tell he wasn’t going to call me out in front of my dad. Instead, he shifted his focus to Sasha, his teasing smile back in place.
“They’re being a bad influence on you, Sasha?” he joked, nudging her lightly with his elbow.
Sasha giggled nervously, “Nope. We’re waiting on Banana Girl so she can finish teaching me how to cook.”
“Misa and Mom are in the kitchen,” I said.
“Oh hell,” Dad sighed, moving around us to the kitchen.
A moment later, Banana Girl ordered us back to the kitchen to finish cooking. She refused to let their drama ruin dinner. She’d been looking forward to it all week.
“So, Sasha,” Nana said, her voice loud and bright as she clapped flour off her hands. “You’re doing good. Just a little more elbow grease.”
Dinner somehow went off without a hitch, considering all the emotions swirling in the room. Nana worked her magic like always, keeping everyone busy enough to avoid more tension while we prepped the food, set the table, and eventually sat down to eat. The conversations were surface-level, mostly about Sasha.
But we made it with no shouting matches or plates thrown. After dinner, I slipped out the front door to avoid cleaning duty, and I found my dad already there, with a cigarette between his fingers.
“Secondhand smoke is bad for the baby,” he smiled as I approached him.
“Firsthand smoke is bad for you. I thought you quit,” I said, sinking into the porch swing.
Dad chuckled, taking one last drag before flicking the butt into the yard. “Sometimes I need a little reminder of the old days. Don’t tell your mother.”
“I’ll try.”
We just sat there, listening to the soft rustle of the wind in the trees and the occasional murmur of voices from inside the house. The night air was cool against my skin, and the distant sound of crickets filled our silence.
“My baby is having a baby. I don’t know how to feel about that,” he admitted, sliding his hands in his pockets.
It was more so how babies got here that bothered Dad the most. In his eyes, I was still the little girl he used to bribe with candy to spend time with Mom.
“All babies have to grow up one day, you know.”
“We’ll see if you’re singing the same tune when yours grows up.”
“Anyway, Papa,” his smile was too wide for me to take the scowl on his face seriously. “I’m just glad you guys are here. I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” he said, his voice low and steady, “So Kenyon.”
“What about him, Daddy?” My eyes rolled up, anticipating what he would say next.
“You must like him more than you did Calvin.”
“How is Calvin doing anyway?”
“He and Georgia got married.”
“Wow,” my eyes blinked in shock because I expected Calvin to move on, just not with Georgia. “I’m happy for them.”
When the door creaked open, he took a deep breath as if preparing to speak again. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The air shifted the way it always did when Kenyon was near.
"Mind if I join?" Kenyon's voice was low, but I could feel him searching for my mood as he stepped onto the porch.
Dad gave him a nod, waving him over with a slight smile. “Have a seat. She’s more yours than mine these days.”
“Real cute Daddy.”
Kenyon settled beside me on the porch swing, the old wood creaking under his weight. He didn’t say anything at first, just reached over, gently brushing his fingers against my leg.
“So what’s next for you, boo?” Dad asked.
“She’s taking a position at a dance studio,” Kenyon replied before I had the chance.
We had spoken about it, but I was still on the fence. This opportunity wasn’t just about dance. It was a pipeline to my wildest dreams because Sonya had connections.
“That’s great boo! I’m so proud of you,” Dad congratulated.
My eyes narrowed while Kenyon smiled.
“Thanks. I haven’t decided yet if I will take the position.”
“She’s decided,” Kenyon maintained, making Dad chuckle.
“I’ll give you two a minute,” he said, giving Kenyon a knowing look before disappearing into the house.
The door clicked shut, and Kenyon’s hand slid from my leg to my back, rubbing gently so everything seemed less heavy.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“You wanted this, and now it’s sitting in your lap, and you’re trippin. Wassup with that?”
I sighed, leaning into him, “I’m pregnant, Kenyon. Recovering from childbirth is hard enough. Then I’ll have to get back in dance shape. It just feels like too much.”
“So stop using my baby as an excuse. You want it, so we’ll make it happen. Don’t worry about how,” Kenyon said, sliding his hand inside mine.
There was no way I could fail with Kenyon and my family by my side. This baby was already surrounded by so much love.